Thomas Hardy: The Woodlanders

33. CHAPTER XXXIII. (continued)

Mrs. Charmond was now as much agitated as Grace. "I ought not to allow myself to argue with you," she exclaimed. "I demean myself by doing it. But I liked you once, and for the sake of that time I try to tell you how mistaken you are!" Much of her confusion resulted from her wonder and alarm at finding herself in a sense dominated mentally and emotionally by this simple school-girl. "I do not love him," she went on, with desperate untruth. "It was a kindness--my making somewhat more of him than one usually does of one's doctor. I was lonely; I talked--well, I trifled with him. I am very sorry if such child's playing out of pure friendship has been a serious matter to you. Who could have expected it? But the world is so simple here."

"Oh, that's affectation," said Grace, shaking her head. "It is no use--you love him. I can see in your face that in this matter of my husband you have not let your acts belie your feelings. During these last four or six months you have been terribly indiscreet; but you have not been insincere, and that almost disarms me."

"I HAVE been insincere--if you will have the word--I mean I HAVE coquetted, and do NOT love him!"

But Grace clung to her position like a limpet. "You may have trifled with others, but him you love as you never loved another man."

"Oh, well--I won't argue," said Mrs. Charmond, laughing faintly. "And you come to reproach me for it, child."

"No," said Grace, magnanimously. "You may go on loving him if you like--I don't mind at all. You'll find it, let me tell you, a bitterer business for yourself than for me in the end. He'll get tired of you soon, as tired as can be--you don't know him so well as I--and then you may wish you had never seen him!"